THE MIDDLE AGES AND THE RENAISSANCE
Christianity, like the religions of the Hebrews of old and the Greeks,
employed dancing as an important part of the ritual of worship. During
the greater part of a thousand years, the relation was not violently
disturbed; the _ballet d’action_ served in the mass before the altar,
and in the “moralities” that long held favour as an agency of spiritual
instruction. A clerical it was who eventually composed and staged the
great pantomime which the many authorities place as the first modern
ballet.
European society, slowly emerging from the mire of Roman manners, at
length found itself hungry for beauty, and capable of intelligent use of
pearls. The ballet masque was evolved, and long remained the supremely
brilliant feature of noble festivities. Polite society, headed by a
king, was the founder of the ballet as it is now known. But this was in
modern times. The institution that had conserved choreography through
the brutishness of the Dark Ages was the Church.
To one Father Menestrier is owed a compilation of data about dancing,
especially in relation to religion. The good father was a Jesuit living
in the seventeenth century, his book having been written about 1682.
While his own comments are not always contributory to exact knowledge of
choreographic detail, the facts he collected from a great variety of
sources are important and interesting. In the following passage he
definitely attaches dancing to the ritual:
“Divine service was composed of psalms, hymns and canticles, because men
sang and danced the praises of God, as they read His oracles in those
extracts of the Old and New Testaments which we still know under the
name of Lessons. The place in which these acts of worship were offered
to God was called the choir, just as those portions of comedies and
tragedies in which dancing and singing combined to make up the
interludes were called choruses. Prelates were called in the Latin
tongue, _Præsules a Præsiliendo_, because in the choir they took that
part in the praises of God which he who led the dances, and was called
by the Greeks _Choregus_, took in the public games.”
The word “_præsul_” was the designation of the chief priest of the
Salii, of early Rome.
Quoting from St. Basil’s Epistle to St. Gregory, Menestrier writes
further: “What could be more blessed than to imitate on earth the rhythm
of angels?” (“_Quid itaque beatius esse poterit quam in terra tripudia
Angelorum imitari?_”) To this he adds: “Philosophers have also existed
who believed that these spirits had no other means of communication
among themselves but signs and movements arranged after the manner of
dances. After this we need not be surprised that Virgil, in the sixth
book of the _Æneid_, makes the spirits dance in the Elysian fields.”
The Emperor Julian was reproved by St. Gregory of Nazianzus, not for
dancing, but for the kind of dances with which he occupied himself. “If
you are fond of dancing,” said the saint, “if your inclination leads
you to these festivals that you appear to love so passionately, dance
as much as you will; I consent. But why revive before our eyes the
dissolute dances of the barbarous Herodias and the Pagans? Rather
perform the dances of King David before the Ark; dance to the honour of
God. Such exercises of peace and piety are worthy of an emperor and a
Christian.”
No more need be quoted to explain the adoption of dancing by the Church,
and the regard in which it was held by the reverend fathers. By some of
them, that is. Others held it in different estimation. Odon, Bishop of
Paris, proscribed dancing in the twelfth century. Notwithstanding, the
fifteenth and sixteenth see in Spain the so-called _Villancicos de
Navidad_ (a choreographic celebration of the birth of Christ) and the
dances of the _Seises_, then as now performed in the Cathedral of
Seville. The latter were authorised in 1439 by a Bull of Pope Eugenius
IV. Their discontinuance was ordered by Don Jayme de Palafox, Archbishop
of Seville. To settle the matter the _Seises_ were taken to Rome and
their dances shown to the Pope, who as a consequence approved their
continuance.
France, too, declined to take the proscription seriously, as almost
numberless documents and images attest. In 1584 the Canon of Langres, by
name Jehan Tabourot, otherwise Thoinet Arbeau, wrote (in his seventieth
year) his work called _Orchesographie_. He refers cheerfully to
opposition: “We practice such merrymaking on days of wedding
celebrations, and of the solemnities of the feasts of our Church, even
though the reformers abhor such things; but in this matter they deserve
to be treated like some hind-quarter of goat put into dough without
lard.” (“_Mais ils mériteroient d’y être traictez de quelque gigot de
bouc mis en paste sans lard._”) Not an infelicitous metaphor, after
inquiry reveals that dough without lard bakes to the hardness of
concrete, so that the aid of a hammer is necessary to crack the shell.
What more satisfying disposal of dissenters from one’s own opinions?
Proofs of the dance’s tenacious inclination to embody itself in the
worship of the vital new religion are many. Records of efforts to
establish it are mingled with those of counter-efforts to expel it; on
the one side a belief that worship is an emotional expression, on the
other a leaning toward logic. Whether religious uplift is a matter of
emotion or of reason is a question perhaps not wholly settled yet.
Certainly the mediæval writers recorded little to reflect a spirit of
compromise--no concession that ritual or logic might advantageously be
chosen with some reference to the psychology of the individual. At the
suggestion of the Council of Toledo, a ritual rich in sacred
choreography was composed by Saint Isidore, archbishop of Seville in the
seventh century. Another century produced two occurrences of
choreographic importance at about the same moment: from Pope Zacharias,
a prohibition of dancing; from the Moorish invasion, preservation of the
seven churches of Toledo. Of the two influences, the latter was deemed
paramount. In the seven churches a mass known as the _Mozarabe_ was
established, continued in all of them through the generations of Moorish
occupancy of the city, and is still celebrated daily in the cathedral.
In the other six churches it was discontinued toward the middle of the
nineteenth century. With accompaniment of the tambourine, whose
resonance Saint Isidore characterised as “the half of melody,” the
service included solemn dancing of the style of the _Saraband_ and the
_Pavane_. Whether or not the choreographic features are still retained,
the authors are unable to say.
Writing in 1731 a _Discourse on Comedy_, Father Pierre le Brun
contributes the information: “ ... that while the preachers were saying
their mass, buffoons, histrions, players of instruments and different
other _farceurs_ were made to come; this disorder is severely forbidden,
as well as dances and the presentation of spectacles in the churches and
cemeteries. The same prohibition is found in the synodic statutes of the
diocese of Soissons, printed in that city in 1561. Dances were sometimes
performed before the church, and there was not less objection made
against the practice at that time.... Meanwhile it is disgracefully
tolerated in some of the country parishes.”
These “spectacles” were the vehicle that carried the mimetic ballet
through the Dark Ages from Rome’s licentious theatre and banquet hall to
the stately salon of the Medici. Under the name of “moralities” they
survive to this day in convents, though clipped as to their
choreographic wings. _Everyman_, played a few years ago by Ben Greet and
his company, was a re-creation of some of the elements of the early
morality, plus speech and minus dancing. Love, aspiration, reverence,
envy, fear, remorse and various other elemental abstractions that
inhabit the human soul were the source of most of the morality’s
characters; the dramatic action consisted--usually if not always--in a
simple treatment of the influences wrought by the varied forces on the
destiny of a man. The man, no more and no less than the abstract
qualities, was represented by an actor. Occurrences of man’s life, both
earthly and subsequent, were equally available as dramatic material.
Apostles, angels and even God were of frequent representation.
A start was made in a direction destined to lead to the development of
scenery. Whereas the Greek drama established the setting by means of
spoken words (and the Roman apparently made no exception to the same
practice), the early morality specified the setting by means of words or
crude symbols marked on objects, the back wall, and other available
surfaces: “forest,” “front of house,” “Heaven,” “street,” or whatever
was necessary. Elaboration by degrees brought these primitive
suggestions up to the point of real scenery, with practical mechanical
devices for sensational entrances.
One must infer that the semiconstant opposition of the Church to these
representations was necessitated by occasional forgetfulness of their
sacred character. The pagan gods persistently lingered among the
_dramatis personæ_, undismayed by the fact that they were dead, and
unshamed by the treatment their followers had accorded Christianity.
Performers no less than authors were sometimes guilty of ribaldry
ranging from the frivolous to the impious. “A canon playing entirely
nude the rôle of Christ, and a clerk representing Saint Francis in a
scene of seduction, undressed in the same manner, were not at all
spectacles of which the originators of the _genre_ had dreamed.”
Yet the good clearly outweighed the bad. And although repeatedly
prohibited, no mention is found of dancing being severely penalised. Now
at the altar and again at the feast it serves, in whatever capacity is
required of it, until at length it comes into prominent connection with
the strolling ballet.
For the morality play--or mystery, as it is otherwise known--becomes an
elaborate affair, with casts and mechanical and scenic effects, on such
a scale that it must collect more coppers than one town affords, in
order to recover the initial expense of the production. On a scale
sufficient to make an impression on its times was the spectacle designed
to celebrate the canonisation of Carlo Borroméo, at Lisbon in 1610. In
the words of Vuillier: “A ship, bearing a statue of St. Carlo, advanced
toward Lisbon, as though to take possession of the soil of Portugal, and
all the ships in the harbour went out to meet it. St. Anthony of Padua
and St. Vincent, patrons of the town, received the newcomer, amid
salvoes of artillery from forts and vessels. On his disembarkation, St.
Carlo Borroméo was received by the clergy and carried in a procession in
which figured four enormous chariots. The first represented Fame, the
second the city of Milan, the third Portugal, and the fourth the Church.
Each religious body and each brotherhood in the procession carried its
patron saint upon a richly decorated litter.
“The statue of St. Carlo Borroméo was enriched with jewels of enormous
value, and each saint was decorated with rich ornaments. It is estimated
that the value of the jewelry that bedecked these images was not less
than four millions of francs (£160,000).
“Between each chariot, bands of dancers enacted various scenes. In
Portugal, at that period, processions and religious ceremonies would
have been incomplete if they had not been accompanied by dancing in
token of joy.
“In order to add brilliancy to these celebrations, tall gilded masts,
decorated with crowns and many-coloured banners, were erected at the
doors of the churches and along the route of the choreographic
procession. These masts also served to show the points at which the
procession should halt, for the dancers to perform the principal scenes
of their ballet.”
[Illustration: DANCE OF PEASANTS.
After a sixteenth-century engraving.]
A century and a half before this--in 1462--King René of Provence had
organised an entertainment, at once religious and social, given on the
eve of Corpus Christi. The word “_entremet_” was applied to the
allegorical scenes, denoting “interlude,” like the Italian
“_intermezzo_.” Other components of the representation were combats and
dances. The affair as a whole was a mixture of the sacred and profane to
which any idea of unity was completely alien: Fame on a winged horse;
burlesque representations of the Duke and Duchess of Urbino, riding
donkeys (why represented, no one knows--but during three centuries the
two were travestied in Corpus Christi processions); Mars and Minerva,
Pan and Syrinx, Pluto and Proserpine, fauns, dryads and tritons dancing
to drums, fifes and castanets; Jupiter, Juno, Venus and Love following
in a chariot. The three Fates, King Herod persecuted by devils, more
devils pursuing a soul, it in turn protected by a guardian angel; Jews
dancing around a golden calf; the Queen of Sheba and suite; Magi
following a star hung at the end of a pole; the Massacre of the
Innocents; Christ and the Apostles--all were scattered through and among
the groups of legendary beings of Greece. More dancers, a detachment of
soldiers, and Death with a scythe following after all others,
approximately completed the fantastic catalogue.
The entertainment as a whole was called by the king the _Lou Gué_. A
number of the French popular dance airs that lasted for centuries are
said to date back to it. Tradition credits the king with the composition
of the work in all its branches--conception, ballets, music and all.
The childish lack of theme, or scheme, bars the _Lou Gué_ and the
entertainments that followed from any comparison with a ballet spectacle
of later times, or of antiquity. But it bridged a gap to better things,
kept the ballet in existence, and had the merit of being amusing. In
eccentricity it may well be coupled with the celebration of the wedding
of Charles the Bold and Margaret of England; “fabulous spectacles
imprinted with a savage gallantry,” as M. Brussel puts it. The
procession of the latter affair included a leopard riding a unicorn, a
dwarf on a gigantic lion, and a dromedary bearing panniers of birds,
“strangely painted as though they came from India,” that were released
among the company.
The fête organised by Bergonzio de Botta in 1489, showed a step in the
direction of the ballet’s destined progress. The occasion was the
marriage of Galeazzo, Duke of Milan, with Isabel of Aragon. This fête
employed the dance, music, poetry and pantomime in the adornment of a
banquet; and the whole entertainment was unified with ingenious
consistency. The description of it given by Castil-Blaze cannot be
improved upon:
“The Amphitryon chose for his theatre a magnificent hall surrounded by a
gallery, in which several bands of music had been stationed; an empty
table occupied the middle. At the moment when the Duke and Duchess
appeared, Jason and the Argonauts advanced proudly to the sound of
martial music. They bore the Golden Fleece; this was the tablecloth,
with which they covered the table, after having executed a stately
dance, expressive of their admiration of so beautiful a princess, and of
a sovereign so worthy to possess her. Next came Mercury, who related how
he had been clever enough to trick Apollo, shepherd of Admetus, and rob
him of a fat calf, which he ventured to present to the newly married
pair, after having had it nobly trussed and prepared by the best cook on
Olympus. While he was placing it upon the table, three quadrilles that
followed him danced round the fatted calf, as the Hebrews had formerly
capered round that of gold.
“Diana and her nymphs followed Mercury. It is unnecessary to say that a
fanfare of hunting-horns heralded the entrance of Diana, and accompanied
the dance of the nymphs.
“The music changed its character; lutes and flutes announced the
approach of Orpheus. I would recall to the memory of those who might
have forgotten it, that at that period they changed their instruments
according to the varying expression of the music played. Each singer,
each dancer, had his especial orchestra, which was arranged for him
according to the sentiments intended to be expressed by his song or his
dance. It was an excellent plan, and served to vary the symphonies; it
announced the return of a character who had already appeared, and
produced a varied succession of trumpets, of violins with their sharp
notes, of the arpeggios of lutes, and of the soft melodies of flutes and
reed pipes. The orchestrations of Monteverde prove that the composers at
that time varied their instrumentation thus, and this particular
artifice was not one of the least causes of the prodigious success of
opera in the first years of its creation.
“But to return to the singer of Thrace, whom I left standing somewhat
too long at the door. He appeared chanting the praises of the Duchess,
and accompanying himself on a lyre.
“‘I wept,’ he went on, ‘long did I weep on the Apennine mount the death
of the gentle Eurydice. I have heard of the union of two lovers worthy
to live one for the other, and for the first time since my misfortune I
have experienced a feeling of pleasure. My songs changed with the
feelings of my heart. A crowd of birds fluttered down to listen to me; I
seized these imprudent listeners, and I spitted them all to roast them
for the most beautiful princess on earth, since Eurydice is no more.’
“A sound of brass instruments interrupted the bird-snaring virtuoso;
Atalanta and Theseus, escorted by a brilliant and agile troop,
represented a boar hunt by means of lively dances. It ended in the death
of the boar of Calydon, which they offered to the young Duke, executing
a triumphal ballet. Iris, in a chariot drawn by peacocks, followed by
nymphs clad in light transparent gauze, appeared on one side, and laid
on the table dishes of her own superb and delicate birds. Hebe, bearing
nectar, appeared on the other side, accompanied by shepherds from
Arcady, and by Vertumnus and Pomona, who presented iced creams and
cheeses, peaches, apples, oranges and grapes. At the same moment the
shade of the gastronomer Apicius rose from the earth. The illustrious
professor came to inspect this splendid banquet, and to communicate his
discoveries to the guests.
“This spectacle disappeared to give place to a great ballet of Tritons
and Rivers laden with the most delicious fish. Crowned with parsley and
watercress, these aquatic deities despoiled themselves of their
headdresses to make a bed for the turbot, the trout, and the perch that
they placed upon the table.
“I know not whether the epicures invited by the host were much amused by
these ingenious ceremonies, and whether their tantalised stomachs did
not cry out against all the pleasures offered to their eyes and ears;
history does not enter into these details. Moreover, Bergonzio de Botta
understood too well how to organise a feast not to have put some ballast
into his guests in the shape of a copious luncheon, which might serve as
a preface, or argument, an introduction if you will, to the dinner
prepared by the gods, demigods, Nymphs, Tritons, Fauns and Dryads.
“This memorable repast was followed by a singular spectacle. It was
inaugurated by Orpheus, who conducted Hymen and Cupids. The Graces
presented Conjugal Fidelity, who offered herself to wait upon the
princess. Semiramus, Helen, Phædra, Medea and Cleopatra interrupted the
solo of Conjugal Fidelity by singing of their own lapses, and the
delights of infidelity. Fidelity, indignant at such audacity, ordered
these criminal queens to retire. The Cupids attacked them, pursuing them
with their torches, and setting fire to the long veils that covered
their heads. Something, clearly, was necessary to counterbalance this
scene. Lucretia, Penelope, Thomyris, Judith, Portia and Sulpicia
advanced, and laid at the feet of the duchess the palms of virtue they
had won during their lives. As the graceful and modest dance of the
matrons might have seemed a somewhat cold termination to so brilliant a
fête, the author had recourse to Bacchus, Silenus and to the Satyrs, and
their follies animated the end of the ballet.”
[Illustration: BALLET OF THE FOUR PARTS OF THE WORLD: ENTRANCE OF THE
GRAND KHAN.
After an old drawing, Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.]
The entertainment made a sensation. It was at the time of the
Renaissance; the Occidental mind was awakening after a thousand years
of sleep, and craved employment. Taste was being reborn, along with
mentality. The pleasures of contact between minds was being
rediscovered; the institution of Polite Society was rapidly finding
itself.
To attempt to repeat the Bergonzio de Botta entertainment would have
been to invite comparisons; to surpass it in any point but magnitude
would have been excessively difficult. Its influence on entertainments
that followed directed itself toward the development of the masque, a
form of musical pantomime that remained, through centuries, an
indispensable adjunct of festal gatherings in the courts of the
Continent and England. The characters in the De Botta production, it
will be noted, were, with two or three exceptions, from Greek mythology.
This was the culmination of a fashion that had been growing, and is
fairly representative of the revival of learning then in progress. It
was not until a few years ago that familiarity with classic tradition
ceased to be considered a part of the education of a lady or gentleman.
There is no reason to believe that the lack of such erudition makes one
the less a lady or a gentleman; but its discontinuance is unfortunate
for the pantomime ballet. In Greek mythology, both natural
manifestations and mental attributes were personified. Not with the
completeness of a catalogue, but enough to express a great many points
by the mere presence of certain characters. Venus, Minerva, Diana;
Dionysius, Orpheus, Apollo, Mercury--all were accepted symbols of
certain human qualities. In relegating their acquaintance to the
depository of cast-off mental furniture, people have failed to create
new symbols to take the place of the old. Harlequin and Columbine we
have, and a few others. But how many are the figures whose mere
entrance, without the interruption of dramatic action, could be depended
upon to introduce definite and recognisable ideas? Pantomime has to be
explained on the programme nowadays; and as nobody gets to his seat
until after the auditorium lights are down, the programme is unread and
people complain that the characters lack meaning. Broadly, Modernism has
devised for itself an education that teaches it to earn each day the
cost of a thousand pleasures, but by which it is robbed of the power to
enjoy any one of them.
Scattered through mediæval choreographic history are allusions to an
employment of chivalry as subject-matter of pantomime. But the idea
never seems to have taken root, as is natural enough, considering the
relation between dancing and armour--and armour was worn by the
unfortunate dancers chosen to represent knights. The dance of chivalry
was not an influence, and is mentioned only as a choreographic
curiosity.
Bergonzio de Botta’s great entertainment, as has been shown, led
squarely up to the masque, one of the ballet’s immediate forerunners.
Meantime the Church’s contribution to the art was no longer a matter of
moralities for the edification of mediæval rustics; high dignitaries,
proceeding partly under ecclesiastical inspiration and partly under
tolerance, were evolving a choro-dramatic form that took no second place
to the masque in preparing the way for the art that was to come.
Sixteenth-century Rome and Florence saw “sacred representations” in
which were utilised the _Saltarello_ [see chapter on Italian dances],
the _Pavane_, the _Siciliana_, _la Gigue_, the _Gaillarde_ and _la
Moresca_. The last was accompanied by heel-tappings, like many of the
dances of Spain to-day. Its music survives in Monteverde’s opera
_Orfeo_, written at the beginning of the seventeenth century; in other
words, music was beginning to be worth while. More important than any
other single acquisition, to say the least, was the alliance of some of
the monarchs of form and colour to whom half the glory of the
Renaissance is due. Of Ariosto’s _Suppositi_, presented in the Vatican
in 1518, the decorations were by Raphael. Andrea del Sarto, Brunelleschi
and Cecca enriched with their sacred figures the mimo-dramas played in
Florence. In Milan, Leonardo da Vinci lent to the reality and beauty of
the religious ballet the palette from which was painted the “Mona Lisa.”
Furthermore, it is not to be supposed that these and other masters of
line, colour and the drama of light were not called to the aid of ballet
grouping and movement. The period leaves no record of a great ballet
composer or director. It does leave reason to believe, nevertheless,
that in grouping and evolution, as well as decoration, music and
accessories, these sacred representations lacked nothing to entitle them
to a respectable place in the annals of opera ballet. Steps were still
primitive, but sufficient unto their day.
Authorities disagree as to which one of several performances is entitled
to the recognition due the first presentation of modern ballet. As a
matter of accuracy, any decision should be made only after considering
exactly which of several species of modern ballet is meant. For the
organisation of the first ballet spectacle conforming to the multiple
standards of modern excellence, the honour seems to be deserved by
Catherine de Medici. True to her family traditions, she took it as an
expression of beauty for its own sake, and developed it in accordance
with French genius for order and form, as is described in later pages.
But the first production of opera ballet, in the sense of a
_divertissement_ or intermezzo composed to interpret sentiments of
dramatic action that it precedes or follows, the consensus of authority
attributes to a work of Cardinal Riario, a nephew of Pope Sixtus IV. He
composed and staged in Castel San Angelo a number of productions in
which the ballet was important, during the latter part of the fifteenth
century. Besides Pope Sixtus IV, Alexander VI and Leo X were strongly in
sympathy with the movement to exalt choreography to its ancient and
proper estate. The educated aristocracy of various Italian cities gave
it support and protection. Important among these champions was Lorenzo
de Medici, with his rare combination of means and scholarly
understanding of the arts. Savonarola acidly charged him with softening
the people by means of pagan spectacles, while Lorenzo went on adapting
and composing.
The Jewish element of Italian society contributed its part to the new
art’s development. At Mantua, where the Jews formed a numerous colony,
they built a theatre on the models of antiquity. Productions were
directed by Bernard Tasso, father of the author of _Jerusalem
Delivered_. Torquato himself went in 1573 to produce _La Pastorale_,
which was a feature of a celebration given on the Island of the
Belvidere, near Ferrara.
The ballet entertainment was fashionable; no great event was complete
without it as a supplement. The visit of the Duke of Anjou (the future
Henry III) to Cracow was the occasion of a fête whose historic
importance was the discovery of a genius in ballet arrangement,
Baltarazini, otherwise known as Beaujoyeulx. Catherine de Medici sent
for him to take charge of the choreographic entertainments of the French
court, the Marshal de Brissac acting as intermediary. “Baltarazini dit
Beaujoyeulx” had his first great opportunity in 1581, on the occasion of
the marriage of the Duc de Joyeuse. _Le Ballet Comique de la Reine_ was
the designation of the offering; it was an addition to the now growing
list of tremendous successes. Full details are recorded in the journal
of one L’Estoile, and in _L’Art de la Danse_ by Jean Etienne Despréaux.
To repeat them in full is neither necessary nor possible: the amiable
L’Estoile in particular experiences all the delight of a simple soul
surrounded by several days’ proceedings of which not a single detail is
anything less than amazing. The lords and ladies appeared in a fresh
costume every day, a new practice of whose extravagance L’Estoile writes
with a mixture of awe and disapproval.
[Illustration: A FOURTEENTH-CENTURY BALL.
After detail of an illuminated MS. in the Bibliothèque Nationale.]
The story of _Le Ballet Comique_ was the mixture of Old Testament story
and mythology already familiar. Fountains, artificial fire and aquatic
machines lent their several notes of richness and variety. Important
from the point of view of the _amateur_ of the ballet is a comment on
the geometrical precision that governed the ballet’s groupings and corps
movements: “_d’une rectitude qu’ Archimède n’eut pas desavoué_.” The
true and modern note of form in grouping had been struck, and the
standard of exactness set that was to become the backbone of the ballet
of later centuries. As the first artistically logical relation of
dancing to the sentiment of the whole work had been effected in the
“sacred representations” of Italy, so _Le Ballet Comique de la Reine_
seems to have been the first work of the kind to be produced under a
modern (which is to say ancient Greek) understanding of the laws of
harmony of line.
The performance lasted from ten o’clock in the evening until four in the
morning. Estimates of its cost range from six hundred thousand to a
million dollars (three to five million francs). Of tournaments, presents
and numberless other items of the several days’ celebration the cost is
reckoned apart from that of producing _Le Ballet Comique_. Apart from
lavishness, there is interest in the fact that queen and princesses
participated. They represented nereids and naiads.
England, meantime, was in nowise ignoring the example of Continental
neighbours. Pantomimes she had under the names of “mysteries,”
“dumb-shows” and “moralities”--religious, and melodramatic, and
variously proportioned mixtures of both. They figure in the history of
the English drama, as a source of plots for the early playwright. Though
the translation of gesture into word filled a want felt by a part of the
people, it subtracted nothing from the popularity of the masque. Henry
VIII was its patron, and occasionally took part in it. Elizabeth carried
it on. Francis Bacon, with whom love of stage representation was a
passion, wrote plots--and dialogue where it was needed. Charles I
brought it to a climax of taste and opulence. Inigo Jones--of whose high
merits as an artist evidences are extant--designed decorations. Ben
Jonson was accustomed to write the book for important productions. A
notable work of collaboration of the two, with the addition of Lawes,
the musical composer, was a masque presented at Whitehall by the Inns of
Court in 1633. The cost is stated as £21,000. Although a ballet was
perhaps the principal feature of the production, its composer is not
named in the records. England’s failure to credit the original genius
may or may not bear some relation to her sterility as a contributor to
the dance. With support, both sentimental and material, she has been
lavish--in the wake of other nations’ enthusiasms. Of invention she has
given nothing of consequence. We therefore turn our attention again to
France, where history was busy.
Henry IV was of a happy disposition; the dance in his reign was happy in
motive, and healthy in growth. To give time to its practice none was too
high in station or serious in mind. Sully, the philosopher, profiting by
training given him by the king’s sister, played a part in one of the
fêtes. The journal of L’Estoile mentions the production of eighty new
ballets during the twenty-one years of the reign.
The nature of Louis XIII was taciturn; an influence that caused the
ballet to oscillate between the sombre and the trivial. The monarch
himself played “The
[Illustration: SEVENTEENTH CENTURY COURT DANCES
Mr. John Murray Anderson and Miss Margaret Crawford
The _Tordion_ (1, 2)--The _Pavane_ (3, 4, 5)
To face page 48]
Demon of Fire” in _La Delivrance de Renault_, in 1617. Of _Le Ballet de
la Merlaison_ that he produced in 1635, he composed the dance music.
A whim of this reign is to the credit of the Duke of Nemours. To
contrive a choreographic composition “docile to his rheumatism,” he
composed in 1630 a Ballet of the Gouty. Meantime the dance was becoming
frivolous, if not licentious. To rectify its shortcomings Richelieu
applied himself--not to preaching damnations of dancing in general, but
to the creation of an allegorical ballet of the sort he thought
suitable. _Quatre Monarchies Chrétiennes_, played in 1635, is a result
of his efforts; “full of pageantry the most opulent and morality the
most orthodox,” in the words of Robert Brussel.
The regency of Anne of Austria developed nothing in particular; a
delicate character enveloped the dance in conformity to the regent’s
disposition and taste. But distinct progress was not destined to take
place until the reign of Louis XIV, founder of the national ballet
academy, perhaps the most helpful patron the dance ever had, and as
devoutly enthusiastic an amateur performer as ever lived. He played
prominent parts in ballet pantomimes to the number of twenty-six.
The date of the founding of the school, _L’Académie Nationale de Musique
et de la Danse_, is 1661. From that time, through several decades,
developments follow with extraordinary rapidity, and in so many
different directions that it is impossible to follow them consecutively.
Great performers begin to appear; artists whose work enraptures the
public by grace of beauty alone, signifying that _execution_ had been
awakened. Mlles. Prévost and Sallé were contemporaries and rivals, each
with a great and ardent supporting faction. Of the latter’s
personality, it is of interest that she was a friend of Locke, author of
_Human Understanding_. Her popularity is gauged by her pay for a single
performance in London, namely, something over two hundred thousand
francs. The amount probably includes the considerable quantity of gold
and jewels thrown to the stage during the performance, for enthusiasm
appears to have reached the point of mania. This admiration was won
without very rapid movement, Sallé believing only in the majestic; or
any high or very broad steps, which did not exist in the ballet in her
time. To have stirred the public as she did without these resources
argues a degree of grace and expressiveness less earthly than heavenly.
[Illustration: LOUIS XIV (AS “THE SUN”) AND A COURTIER (AS “NIGHT”) IN
THE BALLET OF NIGHT.]
Yet her reputation was to be eclipsed by a girl who was studying during
the very hours when Sallé was gathering laurels. Camargo was her name.
She was born in Brussels, daughter of a dancing master. To natural
grace and health she added an inordinate fondness for dancing, and eager
facility for learning its technicalities. Parental vacillation and
educational theories cripple many an artist’s career at its beginning.
But Camargo’s father being a dancing teacher, there was just one thing
for the child to do in the natural course of events, and that was to
learn to dance.
At the age of ten, her art attracted the attention of a patroness, and
she was sent to Paris to study under Mlle. Prévost. In the _corps de
ballet_ at the opera she bolted into public notice by joining impulse to
accident. One Dumoulin, on a certain occasion, missed his musical cue
for entrance to perform a solo. Mlle. Camargo leaped from her place and
executed the solo to the delight of the audience. Introduced at court,
her triumph so affected Prévost that she discontinued her pupil’s
instruction. It was no longer needed. Camargo’s genius had carried her
beyond the reach of jealousy, or even the active intrigue that her
ex-teacher directed against her.
Her matrimonial and other social ventures were conducted with such an
air of candour, and were of such a diversity that they are, above all,
amusing. She was a much-petted personage at court, and an esteemed
friend of the king. In general she was known “as a model of charity,
modesty and good conduct.” She was given a maiden’s funeral.
Castil-Blaze writes of her: “She added to distinction and fire of
execution a bewitching gaiety that was all her own. Her figure was very
favourable to her talent: hands, feet, limbs, stature, all were perfect.
But her face, though expressive, was not remarkably beautiful. And, as
in the case of the famous harlequin, Dominique, her gaiety was a gaiety
of the stage only. In private life she was sadness itself.”
In a technical sense she may be regarded as the first modern. Her work
comprised all that constituted the ballet up to her time; to the
resources that came to her as an artistic heritage she began a process
of addition that was to be carried on by successors. She is credited
with the invention of the _entrechat_, for instance; and here many
readers will find themselves confronted by the need of some explanation
of ballet technique as a means of intelligent discussion of the dancing
of modern times. Before that chapter, however, it is not amiss to glance
over the old dances from which the ballet, up to the foundation of the
Academy in 1661, derived most of its steps.
The _Gavotte_, the _Minuet_, the _Pavane_, the _Saraband_, the
_Tordion_, the _Bourrée_, the _Passecaille_, the _Passepied_, the
_Chaconne_, the _Volte_, the _Allemande_, the _Gaillarde_, and the
_Courante_--these were the dances whose measures were trod by courtiers
of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Among those who have been
moved to study these old dances during the past few years to the end of
reconstructing them, no one is more fortunately equipped for the task
than the only resident of America who has applied himself seriously to
the subject, Mr. John Murray Anderson. He is at once a dancer, an
educated man, and for years a devoted student of the social aspect of
western Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. A period of
months that he recently spent in the choreographic libraries of Europe,
and in joint study with others similarly engaged, has resulted in the
opportunity to see in America a fine and true representation of the old
court steps. With Miss Margaret Crawford, Mr. Anderson posed for the
accompanying photographs of the _Gavotte_, the _Minuet_, the _Bourrée_,
and the _Tordion_. The groupings were selected with view to indicating
the character of each dance. Collectively they give a good idea of the
school of formality in which the French ballet was conceived, and from
which it received its determining influences.
From the beginnings of time, people who give entertainments have
followed a practice of employing performers of dances characteristic of
various peoples. With appropriate costume, the _danses caracteristiques_
give a synopsis, or essence, of the picturesque aspect of the people the
dancer represents. Sixteenth-century nobility availed itself of the
entertainment value of these folk-dances, as Athens did in its golden
days and as London and Newport do to-day. In such manner did French
society gather its material for many of the dances that eventually
became identified with the ballroom.
The _Gavotte_ is of such origin. A few generations of languid
cultivation refined the life out of it, though it was at first a
comparatively active dance. After dropping nearly into disuse it was
revived and popularised by Marie Antoinette, for whose rendering of it
Gluck composed music. After the Revolution, with its paralysing
influence, the _Gavotte_ was once again revived--and revised--by Gardel,
_premier danseur_ of the Opera, in a composition based on music by
Grétry. But this composition was not of a kind for the execution of any
but trained dancers of the stage, Gardel having made it a _metier_ for
the exploitation of his own capabilities. Among new elaborations the
simple little jumping steps and the easy _arabesque_ that distinguished
the _Gavotte_ of earlier days were lost.
The _Tordion_ is another dance of lively origin. Sometimes it was made a
vehicle for the grotesque, such as black-face comedy--let no one be
surprised that the “coon comedian” of to-day is an ancient institution.
It was stepped briskly, even in the stately environment of court. The
position of the foot with the heel on the floor and the toe up was not
adopted by the ballet, but is found in folk or “character” dances in all
parts of Europe.
The _Allemande_ also was a dance of movement; so was the _Volte_. In the
former the man turns his partner by her raised hand; in the costume of
the time, the whirl is very effective. The _Volte_ is supposed to be the
immediate ancestor of the _Waltz_.
The _Saraband_ came into France from Spain, where it was tremendously
popular as _la Zarabanda_. It dates from the twelfth century, and was
praised by Cervantes. Its character justifies the belief that it comes
from Moorish origins. It is a solo dance making noble use of the arms,
and is executed with a plastic relaxation of the body. A distinctly
Oriental mannerism is its quick shift of the foot, just as it is placed
on the floor, from the customary position of toeing out to a position of
toeing in. The foot-work, moreover, has little more than slow glides.
Its exotic qualities, nevertheless, are subordinate to its Occidental
courtliness; like all the other dances of polite society, it conformed
to the etiquette of its time and place, notwithstanding improprieties of
which it had been guilty in earlier centuries.
Marguerite de Valois was fond of the _Bourrée_ because, according to
tradition, she had an extraordinary natural endowment in the shape of
feet and ankles. And the skipping step (related to the modern
polka-step)
[Illustration: SEVENTEENTH CENTURY COURT DANCES
The _Saraband_ (1)--The _Allemand_ (3)--The other groups are from the
_Minuet_--6 and 5 (in that order) represent the Mirror figure in the
_Minuet de la Reine_
To face page 54]
[Illustration: THE “GAVOTTE”
To face page 55]
of the _Bourrée_ necessitated the wearing of a shorter skirt than the
mode of her day permitted for ordinary use. It never was a rigorously
formulated composition, perhaps because it never became very popular at
court. It contributed to the ballet the latter’s useful _pas de
bourrée_, and continues as a diversion of the peasants of Auvergne,
where it originated.
The _Passepied_ was one of a family known as _les branles_, whose family
characteristics are ill defined, despite the frequency with which the
term is used by seventeenth-century writers. In England the word became
“brawl.” It was the _Branle du Haut Barrois_ in which gentry costumed
themselves as the shepherds and shepherdesses perpetuated by Watteau.
Another, the _Branle des Lavandières_, was based on pantomime of the
operations of the laundress. In the _Branle des Ermites_, monk’s dress
was worn. In that of the _Flambeaux_, torches were passed to newly
selected partners, as in a present-day cotillion figure; it was a
fashionable figure at wedding celebrations.
Tabourot’s amiable hints for the elegant execution of _branles_ probably
are not directed at the court. But they are illuminating. “Talk
gracefully, and be clean and well shod; be sure that the hose is
straight, and that the slipper is clean ... do not use your handkerchief
more than is necessary, but if you use it, be sure it is very clean.”
There is more; but, after all, why violate illusions?
The _Chaconne_, like the _Saraband_, came to France from across the
Pyrenees. The dance of the _Seises_ in the Seville Cathedral is said to
be a _Chacona_ unchanged from its sixteenth-century form.
The _Gaillarde_ is sometimes grouped with the _Tordion_, from which it
differs in the respect that the theme of its steps is little jumps,
while the _Tordion_ is, for the most part, glided. One form of it,
however, “_Si je t’aime ou non_,” contained some energetic kicks.
Indeed, it was of a character to exercise heart and muscle; excellence
in some of its steps “was looked upon as an accomplishment equal to
riding or fencing.” To that form of it known as “_Baisons-nous Belle_”
was attached interest of another variety, in the shape of kisses
exchanged between partners. “A pleasant variation,” comments the
venerable Thoinet-Arbeau. A variation employed to prevent monotony in
some of the other dances as well, among them the early _Gavotte_.
The _Courante_ was one of the more formal dances, never having been
popular even in its origin. It was the _Courante_ that was favoured by
Louis XIV, during his many years of study under a dancing master. He is
credited, before he was overtaken by the demon of adiposity, with having
executed the _Courante_ better than any one else of his time. In style
it has been compared to the _Seguidillas_ (q. v.) of Spain.
Of all, the dances most typical of the formality of the most formal
society western civilisation has produced are the _Minuet_ and the
_Pavane_. Both might be characterised as variations of deep bows and
curtsies. In the _Pavane_ photographs it will be noted that instead of
taking hold of her partner’s hand, the lady rests her hand on the back
of his.
Hernando Cortez is said to have composed the _Pavane_ (Spanish _Pavana_)
and introduced it in the court of his land on returning from America. If
so, he was a solemn person, as well as dignified; to the imposing grace
of majesty the dance joins the aloof grandeur of a ritual. These
qualities gave to it the office of opening great court functions.
Brocades and armour and swords promenaded very slowly around the room,
each couple making its reverence to the monarchs before proceeding to
the steps of the dance. These were few, simple, and slow; there were
many curtsies, retreats and advances, during which last the gentleman
led the lady by the upraised hand, while following her. Poses and groups
were held, statue-like, for a space of time that allowed them to impress
themselves on the vision. So fond was Elizabeth of England of the
_Pavane_ (in writings of her land and period spelled _Pavin_ and
otherwise) that it was more than whispered that excellence in its
performance was more valued than statesmanship as a basis of political
favour.
The _Minuet’s_ formality was graded. _Le Menuet du Dauphin_, _le Menuet
de la Reine_, _le Menuet d’Exaudet_ and _le Menuet de la Cour_ were its
four species, the stateliness increasing in the sequence mentioned. The
accompanying _Minuet_ photographs of Mr. Anderson and Miss Crawford are
of the form _de la Reine_. The “mirror” figure is perhaps its most
salient feature--a pretty bit of expression accompanying an
interlacement of arms whose composition comes as a climax to strikingly
ingenious and gracious arm movements.
The popularity of the _Minuet_, in its various forms, was practically
unlimited; lonely and cheerless indeed must have been the social life of
the man who did not dance. After the decline of the _Pavane_ it
continued as an inseparable adjunct of gatherings of all degrees of
conventionality within the scope of a polite mode of living. At court
balls, at the romping Christmas parties of English country places; in
the remote homes of Virginia planters, at governor-generals’
receptions, in the palaces of _intendants_ in the far North it saluted,
made coquetry with fan and eye, incarnated in gallant figures the brave
and reverent spirit of chivalry. Pictures represent its performance in
home surroundings during daylight; slight pretext seems to have served
as occasion for its performance. In connection with this popularity it
must be remembered that, even in its simpler forms, so much as a
passable execution of the _Minuet_ was far from easy to acquire.
Let it be understood that the _grand ballet_ of to-day did not spring
full-grown from the dances above enumerated. Some of their forms
continued unchanged through years of academic influence. Present-day
“elevation,” as scope of high and low level is called, the great leaps,
great turns, and, in short, most of the dazzling elements of to-day’s
ballet are the accumulated contribution of individual artists from time
to time. Taglioni, of the middle nineteenth century, is the last to add
notably to the classic ballet’s alphabet of steps. It is not unsafe to
say that the next few years will see its range increased: the Russians,
avid for new things, have ransacked Egyptian carvings and Greek vases.
Trained to perfection in the technique and philosophy of their art, they
are incorporating intelligently the newly rediscovered with the long
familiar. But a concrete idea of their relation to the art, or of the
art itself, cannot be had without some acquaintance with its actual
mechanics; it is time to consider the salient steps on which most
Occidental dancing is based, and which the ballet has reduced to perfect
definition.